


Sometimes, They Win

by tinypinkmouse



Series: Sometimes, They Win [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aftermath of Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse
Summary: Everything went back to the way it was, and that's great. That's what he wanted. Except somehow Barry ended up with all his memories of a future that will never be. It makes things... complicated.Sequel to "Home is a Fire."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started a sequel no one asked for, with 100% less smut and ridiculously light on actual plot.
> 
> This continues pretty much directly from where "Home is a Fire" ended, so it'll probably make a lot more sense if you've read that first.
> 
> There were a lot more things I meant to say, but I should have gone to sleep hours ago and I just can't remember what those things were anymore. :)

The dry heaves stop after a time. Somehow he manages to get the ugly sobbing under control, until there are only quiet tears running down his cheeks. For some reason, he can't seem to put a stop to those. In the end, it's the smell of his own vomit, more than anything else, that finally makes Barry get up from the floor.

He shrugs off the helping hands and never even turns to see who they belong to. He has no clue what to do with the help he's being offered, and it's just easier to leave it behind and pretend he never noticed.

He walks away. His steps are slow and faltering, another thing he doesn't seem able to do much about. He doesn't look back.

He can't face any of his friends right now, can't look at them at all. Not when the memory of Barry's own hand shredding Eobard's heart is clearer in his mind than any of their faces.

His feet scuff the floor; it feels like someone's attached weights to them and forgotten to tell him about it. Darkness creeps in at the edges of his vision, and for a moment the world wobbles around him. He stops long enough to steady himself and then keeps on walking.

If anyone tries to say something, he doesn't hear them.

Eventually he finds himself in the closest restroom he could find his way to. Somehow on the way there the tears seem to have dried out, he barely even notices.

He rinses the bile out of his mouth and splashes water on his face. None of it makes him feel any better, but at least it mostly gets rid of the taste of vomit.

For a moment the world goes unsteady again and he grips the edge of the sink and lets it support some of his weight. Barry knows he should probably eat something soon. The thought of food makes him gag. He swallows convulsively and then tries to breathe calmly.

He'll be fine as long as he just stays at normal speed. At least for a while still.

Finally he lets himself look at the person in the mirror. His hair is flattened from the cowl he's pulled down. The suit itself feels achingly familiar on him and yet horribly strange at the same time. The eyes are red-rimmed, the face blotchy from all the crying.

The reflection in the mirror looks like him. Barry isn't sure it is.

Apart from all the signs of crying Barry doesn't really look any different from how he remembers himself. The only thing different really, is the Flash suit. He hasn't worn it in so long. No resources to make more of them once the old ones were gone. No one to make them either.

Is he the Barry Allen staring at him from the mirror in his too red suit, or is he someone else entirely?

"Baer?" Joe's voice says from the doorway, gruff and tentative. He turns to look at Joe.

Tears are prickling at his eyes again. He tries to swallow, but it feels like something is choking him and he can't quite manage it.

"Joe," he croaks out. Oh god, he's missed Joe so much.

Next thing he knows, Joe is pulling him into a hug and there isn't enough strength in Barry's muscles to do anything but let him. Barry presses his head to Joe's shoulder and feels like he's a little kid again.

For a moment all that matters in the world is here, contained in Joe's arms.

It feels like a long time before Barry finally manages to gather some of his scattered thoughts. That's when the realisation finally hits.

The singularity.

It should have been the first thing on his mind after Eobard.

It should have been the only thing on his mind.

...but it hasn't happened. It can't have. He would have noticed _that_.

There's no paradox, his mind supplies. That must be the reason.

He's never known for sure why the singularity happened. There was only conjecture. The timing of Eddie's death.

 _Eddie is alive_ , he thinks.

He pulls away from Joe. He tries to keep his thoughts together; he can't let himself miss something else important.

Right. Yes. Eobard is still here – dead, but here. That means Barry needs to go back to the body and...

He blinks at the darkness suddenly edging at his vision. "I can't," he says, the words slipping out at the realisation. He thinks he might have cut off something Joe was about to say. Barry swallows through the lump in his throat. "I'm going to go change into something else," he says before Joe has a chance to start talking. Whatever Joe has to say will just be another thing he isn't up to handling right now. "Can you tell…" Barry frowns a bit, almost losing his train of thought as he tries to think of the right person for this, "...Cisco to get Gideon for me. I'll be in the cortex when I'm done."

Cisco _is_ alive in this time, isn't he? He has to be.

Barry keeps his eyes away from Joe. He doesn't want to deal with whatever it is he would see in Joe's face.

"Sure, I can do that," Joe says, voice thick with something Barry doesn't think about. Barry's heart thumps painfully in his chest, and he lets out a long shaky breath. 

"Thanks Joe," Barry answers and heads out of the restroom.

* * *

He stands under the spray of hot water for a long while. It's been some time since he's had the opportunity and knowing that the hot water won't run out he's going to take a moment to indulge himself – even if he has to forcefully smother the voice inside his head that keeps telling him not to waste resources.

The S.T.A.R. Labs sweats and shirt he pulls on afterward leave him feeling vaguely nostalgic. They're more comfortable than anything he's worn in… years, probably. It feels like another indulgence. It feels wrong.

He probably has some shoes around somewhere, but he can't be bothered to figure out where he usually keeps them. There's more important things to take care of. Barry leaves his feet bare and wanders, slowly, toward his destination.

When he walks into the cortex almost everyone seems to be gathered there.

Caitlin and Cisco. He clenches his hands into fists – blunt nails digging into his palms – and takes a slow, shuddering breath. He will not fall apart again.

Ronnie and Dr. Stein. The sight of them at least causes only a dull sort of ache in his chest – he resists the urge to rub at it – he'd never had the time to get to know either of them all that well.

Iris. He has to stop for a moment, and hopes that nobody notices when his vision blurs and he fights to keep himself steady on his feet. He never did find out what happened to Iris in the end, and somehow that was almost worse than her death would have been.

Joe and Eddie aren't there, and for a moment his mind blanks and all he can think is that he needs to _see_ Eddie. He needs to make sure that Eddie is here, that Barry hasn't screwed up something else.

"Joe? Eddie?" Barry asks the room at large, trying to project only mild curiosity into his voice.

"They're with… Wells," Iris says carefully. Barry can see the worry on her face as she looks at him, but he can't think about that now. He can't look too closely at Iris at all, not if he wants to get through this without breaking apart again.

He breathes in calmly and nods. He should probably ask about what they're doing with… the body. But he looks at all these people he's lost and Barry can't bear reminding them that they'd just seen him murder someone.

_...his arm sinks into the yellow covered chest…_

Barry swallows hard, again. He looks down at the floor. He doesn't want to see the way they'll look at him.

"Hey, I think this is what you wanted," Cisco says, walking out from behind the monitors, holding out a small rectangle of some sort toward him. It has to be Gideon.

Barry lifts his hand and… Cisco's face blanches, his eyes widening. 

"Um… I'm really not sure if it's all of her, I mean I don't even know how to turn her on," Cisco says quickly, trying to cover his reaction.

Is he imagining Barry's hand in his chest, instead of Wells'? Does he see Barry's arm vibrate as it plunges into someone? 

He feels sick, and for a moment he's grateful there's nothing left for him to throw up.

Barry takes the offered piece of future technology, careful not to let his fingers brush against Cisco's as he does so. He clutches Gideon in his palm, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"It's probably better like that," Barry says, pretending as hard as he can that he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. "The less we know about the future, the better." He swallows the urge to laugh at his own words and instead the nonexistent sound seems to echo inside his mind. 

"Yeah, you're right. But man, how cool would it be to have an AI from the future." Cisco shakes his head.

Barry's grateful when Caitlin moves away from Ronnie's side and starts insisting that Barry eat something, and that she should run some tests to make sure he's alright. He still doesn't feel like eating, but he follows her anyway and forces down the Cisco-made nutrition bars she pushes on him while he lets her do whatever tests she wants.

She's not wrong after all, and it gets him out from under everyone's eye for a moment.

It's a relief to just let her order him around for a while and not think about anything.

If he concentrates hard enough it almost feels familiar.

* * *

One by one everyone leaves for home. Barry stays behind. He doesn't feel like going back home to Joe's yet. He needs some time to think. Just a bit more time before he has to talk to Joe and think of something to say.

He puts on the suit and goes for a run. Just for a bit, he tells himself, just until he feels a bit more like himself. Until the Speed Force washes some of the confusion away.

The city is different from what he remembers. Of course it is. In his memories there's violence and fire and death. When he closes his eyes he sees a city dying. He sees it dead. Dead. Dead.

He feels the lightning crackle in his veins as he runs faster. For a moment he can forget everything, for a moment his connection to the Speed Force is everything that matters in the universe. It doesn't last.

Barry stops abruptly. He looks at the building in front of him without really paying it much attention. He doesn't remember it at all, couldn't even say if it was there... before. Maybe it wasn't, maybe it's just been too long.

Running feels different. He isn't sure what it is, but there's something slightly off. He's slower he thinks, but he's not who he was in the future and he would have to be slower, right? The speed he remembers is from a future that will never happen. The speed he remembers was only hours ago.

Barry lets out a slow breath, and keeps on running. Maybe if he runs through the streets of the city enough times, it will start to feel real. Maybe if he re-familiarizes himself with all the places he should know, he'll remember the city as it is instead of how it will never be.

It's morning when he stumbles into S.T.A.R. Labs. His vision keeps blurring at the edges and his hands feel shaky when he pulls out some of the nutrition bars, stuffing them down his throat without much thought. They make him feel a bit more steady on his feet.

He changes out of the suit and notices his cell phone when he deposits the suit in the cortex. He assumes it's his anyway, unless someone forgot theirs. It seems to be alerting him of something. He picks it up and realises it's his wake up alarm.

 _Wake up Barry, go to work,_ he thinks and doesn't laugh.

He swipes to shut the alarm off. He has no idea what day of the week it is, but he assumes he should be going to work. Barry unlocks the phone – there's no security code, and he should probably be grateful that phone security doesn't seem to have been that important to him – and thumbs through the contacts until he hits something that he thinks is right.

He calls in sick.

He finds one of the unused spaces – there's enough of those at S.T.A.R. Labs – and crashes down on the floor. He's slept in worse places.

No one wakes him up.

* * *

Barry's sitting on the exam table, picking electrodes of his skin.

"You aren't sleeping well, are you?" Caitlin asks. Barry looks up to meet her worried gaze. It's not really something Barry can hide from her. Whenever he looks at himself in a mirror he looks… worn.

He never quite managed to make it to Joe's after that first night. Every time Barry sees Joe at work he expects Joe to bring it up. He thinks Joe tries to, once or twice, but Barry starts talking about work and to his surprise Joe lets it go.

It's harder to avoid Caitlin's questions. After all, Barry _is_ her work. He looks down and picks off another electrode.

"If you don't want to sleep at Joe's, you could go somewhere else," she says tentatively, like she isn't sure it's the right thing to say. "Staying here isn't good for you Barry."

He looks up at her again, there's nothing but sympathy and concern on her face.

"I'll… work something out," he says, and he can tell by the look on her face it's not what she wants to hear. He has no clue what the right thing to say would have been. Not the truth, at least, that he won't sleep any better no matter where he spends his nights.

Maybe he should look for an apartment. Maybe that might make the look on Caitlin's face go away.

* * *

Iris and Eddie catch him at work to tell him they're engaged. They look at him like they're not sure how he'll react.

Barry doesn't know how he should react and it takes a moment too long for him to say anything. "That's great," he says, and even he can hear how unenthusiastic it sounds. He steps up to give Iris a hug instead. "I'm so happy for you," he whispers, and even after all this time it's still a bit of a revelation to realise that there's no part of him that doesn't mean it. "Eddie is a great guy."

"Thanks Barry," Iris says as he steps back. She looks relieved almost, and Barry struggles to remember where his and Iris's relationship is at this time, because how could she think that he wouldn't want her to be happy?

Before he has time to think about it too much, he pulls Eddie in for a quick hug too. It's easier than trying to figure out what to say.

Barry is so happy for them that it hurts – a bright flare of agony in his chest. He can't let them see.

"Really," Barry says. "It's awesome." It doesn't sound right, but both Eddie and Iris smile at him anyway.

When they mention having coffees later, Barry tells them that he's running late from a crime scene. They'll just end up worrying about him if he spends more time with them, or think he isn't happy for them.

It'd just end up being awkward.

* * *

It's probably the news about the engagement that makes Barry finally _see_ the ring on Caitlin's finger. 

And isn't that another exciting installment of 'did I forget it, or did the timeline change?'

Barry can almost remember the hasty ceremony though, and besides, even if it was a change at least it was a nice one for once.

He tells Caitlin that she and Ronnie should spend some time together, or maybe together with Dr. Stein and his wife. Whichever way the whole thing works for them.

He's half expecting her to argue with him, for that scrunched, worried look to appear on her face again. She just nods though, and agrees with him. The worry is still there in her eyes though, when she looks at him, but he can pretend he doesn't notice.

It's good that Caitlin wants to take some time off, she deserves it more than anyone. She should have time to enjoy being together with Ronnie, they've both had too little of that.

* * *

There's talk about a metahuman task force. It doesn't take too long before the idea of asking Cisco for help starts floating around, and Barry is quick to support the idea. Cisco would be a great help to a task force, and getting out of S.T.A.R. Labs would be good for him.

Barry isn't entirely sure when it all goes from talk to actual reality, but obviously it does.

He might see just as much of Cisco at CCPD, but at least there are other people around and maybe it's not quite so awkward all the time. At least it's not so painfully obvious that they're avoiding each other.

* * *

Of all the things Barry thought he'd feel when walking into Iron Heights nostalgia was not the first thing that came to mind. But as painful as visiting the place has sometimes been, he doesn't have any truly bad memories from here.

He sits down in front of the glass separating him from his dad, and picks up the phone to talk to him.

"Slugger," his dad greets him, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Dad," he manages to say. He tries out a smile, but it wavers and he has to blink back tears instead. "I'm so sorry it took me so long to come visit."

He can't tell his dad about what really happened – or didn't happen – anymore than he can anyone else. But Barry tells him he saw mom, that he told her that they were doing fine. He tells his dad he had the chance to say goodbye.

It makes his dad wipe away tears.

The guilt is a ball of lead in the pit of Barry's stomach. It keeps his own eyes dry.

* * *

Barry stands in the bathroom of his new apartment. He's naked and wet from his recent shower. He stares at himself in the mirror. He looks tired still, exhausted really – it's a good thing Caitlin left for her belated honeymoon and doesn't need to worry about how Barry's new home is doing nothing at all for his sleep.

Other than that he still looks the same as he always has. No scars, no signs of age. He knows that will stay the same for years to come.

He's still not entirely sure if he is that person in the mirror, but he has to be. He _will_ be. The future he remembers will never happen, and Barry will never be the man he became. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure of that.

He doesn't want to do all of this alone. He knows if he told any of his friends he needed help they'd be there for him. But Barry doesn't remember how to talk to them. He's afraid they'll see he's not the Barry they know.

He hasn't meant to push them all away, not really. He wants to tell them how happy he is that they're safe and _here_. But how can he tell them how much they mean to him, when it hurts just to see them? When every time Barry wakes up he still has to convince himself that he's really here, that they're all alive. Has to convince himself that what he remembers never happened.

He buries his face in his hands and takes a shuddering breath. He just needs a bit more time to figure everything out.

He doesn't want to know how they'd look at him if they knew about all the things he's done.

He lifts his head from his hands and looks his reflection in the eyes. He wonders if this is the man that Eobard Thawne hated so much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get different POVs in this chapter. Initially I meant to keep it to one POV per chapter, but then that really just didn't work out. Also, this is much faster than I expected to get this posted, I guess having the flu and feeling too tired to do other things is good for something. :)

Len leaves the bar early. He only stops to shoot a brief look of warning Mick's way first. Mick figures that means he's still good for a drink or two more. Most of the time it's a crap idea for Mick to go out and get drunk somewhere alone, at least if he's actually trying to lay low or avoid fighting. Hell, even having Len around isn't always enough to keep things from getting out of hand.

Before Mick has the chance to order anything, someone walks up to the bar counter next to him. "Can I buy you a drink?" the stranger asks, in a voice that's very carefully casual.

Mick turns his head to look at the guy – kid, really, he notices. He doesn't look like he fits into Saints and Sinners, just a bit too clean and innocent looking for a place like this. But he looks Mick in the eyes without flinching, and flashes a quick smile that makes him look all of twelve years old. Either the kid is stupid or there's more to him than meets the eye.

Kids like this don't just offer to buy Mick drinks for the hell of it. Not usually anyway. Well, there's been a few times, but there sure as fuck was a reason for that. Looking for some kind of thrill; a bit of a tumble between the sheets with a criminal, thinking they knew what they were getting into. He looks the kid over – lean muscles wrapped in t-shirt and jeans – and Mick wouldn't necessarily say no to that.

Too bad this kid isn't looking at him like that's what he's after. Mick isn't sure what the look in the kid's eyes is, but it's not one that's out for a cheap thrill and even cheaper sex.

"Sure kid," he says, because he won't say no to a free drink.

The kid makes a gesture toward the bar. "Anything you want?"

Mick gives it a thought and orders a beer, because he's not supposed to do anything stupid in here. Len likes the place. The kid orders himself the same before paying.

"Barry Allen," the kid says with a nod. He looks at Mick like he's waiting for some kind of reaction.

"Mick," he offers when the silence has stretched out just a bit too long. The kid did buy him a beer.

The kid bursts out into another short, delighted smile. It makes him seem even more out of place. "It's been so long I didn't… He really never told you." The kid sounds happy about it, whatever it is.

The kid glances around them, and when he's sure Mick is watching he snatches his own beer from the counter, his arm blurring with speed. The kid lifts it to his lips at normal speed, and takes a drink.

Mick's fingers twitch. If he was holding his gun, the kid would be burning.

"I thought you'd look older," Mick says and the kid – Flash – laughs.

"I get that a lot," he says, sounding amused. He leans slightly toward Mick and lowers his voice. "I'm actually twenty-six."

So far the Flash seems less annoying than Mick would have expected, if he'd ever given it any thought. Doesn't mean Mick will hesitate to burn him if he ever has the chance. 

Doesn't answer the question of what the fuck he's doing here talking to Mick either.

The Flash nods at an empty booth. "Join me?"

Mick shrugs and follows him, sitting down across from the Flash. Mick takes a drink from his beer and waits. If the Flash has something to say to him he can get on with it, if not, Mick might as well enjoy his drink.

The kid fidgets a bit. It's the first time tonight he actually looks uncomfortable. After a bit of uncertainty, the kid reaches down into a pocket – or under the table at least. He puts down something small on the table, and slides it toward Mick.

"It made me think of you," the Flash tells Mick, sounding a bit breathless; his eyes glued to the table. The kid's fingers are trembling, blurring slightly at the edges as he pulls his hand back and leaves whatever it is behind. The kid rests his hand on the table in front of himself, hiding the vibrations with his other hand.

What the hell is this about? That's a bit too much vulnerability the kid's putting on display.

Mick pulls his eyes back from the Flash and picks up the lighter. It's one of the expensive ones, he can tell. Nothing flashy or anything, but it would definitely cost a pretty penny.

He flicks it open; the flame is as beautiful as always. He forces his fingers to move and flick the lighter closed, the flame vanishes and Mick takes a long breath. He closes his hand around the lighter, hiding it from sight, and looks back at the Flash again. The kid looks relieved.

"You bought me a lighter?" People don't give Mick things, unless he forces them to. The Flash sure as hell isn't supposed to show up with gifts.

"I…" The Flash grimaces, looking like he's just tasted something sour. "Stole it, actually," the Flash admits. "I wasn't thinking. I mean, I was in a hurry to catch... I just saw it and thought 'hey, Mick would like that' and I didn't even remember I'd taken it until later, and it seemed like a bad idea to take it back." The words tumble out of the kid's mouth almost too fast for Mick to make sense of them. The Flash seems to catch himself, because he goes silent and looks at Mick like he's waiting for an answer of some kind.

"I didn't know the Flash was crazy."

Mick slips the lighter into a pocket, just in case the kid decides he wants it back. No reason not to keep it, even if there's no good reason for Flash to give it to him. Maybe it's bugged or something. Well, he can always ditch it later if he has to.

It's a nice lighter though.

The kid pulls a hand through his hair, leaving it even more tousled than before. "Yeah," the Flash agrees, sounding tired. "Probably." Then he seems to come to a decision, and a determined look settles on his face. The Flash wraps a hand around his beer bottle, but doesn't pick it up. "This is going to sound…" he snorts lightly, "insane."

Mick gives him a look. They've already landed squarely into crazy territory with this conversation.

"Okay, I know showing up here hasn't been the best proof of my sanity, but just bear with me here," the kid pleads. "I time traveled. It's all ridiculously complicated and I'm not sure I have it all straight at this point and… fuck." The obscenity falls from the kid's lips in an annoyed snarl, and for some reason that's the thing that seems most out of place so far. "I guess the details don't matter. Let's just say I did something stupid and… the world went to shit." The kid's eyes are turned toward Mick, but he gets the feeling Flash is seeing something else. "It was your kind of place Mick, at least… sometimes. No cops, not a lot of heroes – a lot of people who would have been happy to kill us though – but the freedom of doing whatever the hell you please gets lost when you're too busy starving." The last words are spat out in anger, and the kid distracts himself with his own beer.

Mick takes another drink – he's almost out by now. What the fuck is he supposed to think about what the Flash is telling him? Sure, it sounds crazy – and why the hell is the Flash here telling _Mick_ about it – but the look on the kid's face when he talked… that was real.

"I'll get you another," the kid says quietly, with a gesture at Mick's beer.

Mick should get up and leave before the kid gets back. Whatever weird thing this is, he doesn't need it. Len's obsession with the Flash is enough, Mick doesn't need to get tangled up in this shit too.

The kid sets a beer down on the table, and slips back into the booth. Mick isn't sure why he's still there. He'd tell himself it was for the free beer, but he's pretty sure it's not worth the trouble that the Flash is bound to come with.

"The world seems to be doing fine at the moment," Mick says, picking up his beer.

The Flash nods. "And I intend to keep it like that. But yeah, that's where the time travel comes in. Kind of. I went back and stopped myself from screwing up quite so badly. Except it didn't quite go according to plan, because now I don't remember how to be…" The Flash's voice had been rising in agitation and he cuts off abruptly, swallowing hard. "Me," he says quietly, looking down at his hands.

The Flash goes quiet after that. Mick doesn't want to deal with this shit, it's not his fucking problem. "What's any of this got to do with me?"

"You're the one thing I can think of that's familiar. And this was such a bad idea, but," the kid draws a hand over his face before dropping it back to the table. He huffs out a tired laugh, "it was the only one I had."

The Flash looks at him with eyes that seem to be begging him for _something_.

"Look kid, this has been… really fucking weird. But I'm not your…"

The Flash's hand slaps against the table with a bang. The beer bottles rattle against the table top.

"I know!" It's loud enough that a few people glance their way, but they look away quickly, probably not wanting to draw Mick's attention to them. "I don't need you to be my friend, or to," the Flash makes some sort of sweeping gesture with his arm, "hold my hand and listen to my sob story."

Mick growls, his hands pushing against the table as he gets up. The table slides forward a few inches, pushing into the Flash who just grabs the edge of it and shoves back, hard. The edge of the table hits Mick in the thighs, he grunts and glares down at the Flash who hasn't bothered to get up.

The Flash tilts his head back and looks up at him, smiling slightly.

"If you come home with me, I'll make you dinner?"

Mick starts to laugh.

* * *

Mick sits at the small dinner table in the kitchen and watches Flash make dinner. He blurs through the parts he can at superspeed.

It's just god damned weird to watch Flash do something so… normal. Almost as weird as the fact that he just keeps talking to Mick through it all, never really seeming to care that Mick doesn't answer.

"It's taken some getting used to to be able to just buy whatever food I want again," Flash says, his hands moving faster than normal as he chops something. Flash disappears and plates suddenly appear on the table in front of Mick. "Like bread," Flash says, back at the counter. "You have no idea how rare bread could be in some places, after a while. Or vegetables, or… well, food."

Food starts appearing on the table, and then a moment later Flash sits down across from him. 

"Sorry it's nothing special. I was never a great cook to begin with, and I'm a bit out of practice still. There's a lot of it though."

There really is a lot of food, but once Flash starts eating, it's easy to see why. Where he puts all of it is anybody's guess.

Flash keeps talking even through dinner, when he isn't stuffing food into his mouth that is. Mick manages to get through the late dinner with no more than a few grunts in answer.

It's not like Flash says anything important. He goes on about something or other that happened in this crazy future of his. Mick still doesn't know if he should believe any of it or not, but it's a lot of details if he's just making things up. And why go through the bother?

Then Flash starts in on something about a body dumped in the sewers and it takes a moment before Mick figures out the fact that the kid works for the cops. That's just what he needs. And fuck Snart too, there's no way he didn't know about that.

There's a lot of details about how this guy was killed and what kind of wounds he had, and Mick knows normal people don't talk about corpses over food. Not that Mick has a problem with it, but shit if this isn't just getting more bizarre all the time.

Flash stops in the middle of some explanation about how there wasn't any blood wherever the body was found. "Do you guys ever use the sewers... or the subway tunnels, I guess. You know," he makes a vague gesture with his fork, "for jobs?"

Mick glares at him. It's none of the Flash's damned business what they do. 

Flash goes on eating, completely unaffected. "You can do whatever you want, of course," Flash says after a moment of chewing and swallowing. "It just might be a bad idea to go down there."

It doesn't seem like Flash is about to say anything more about it, since he just keeps shoveling food in at a rate that's just a bit alarming.

Mick really wants to hit something, like maybe the kid in front of him.

"Why?" Mick asks after a moment, because Len would probably bitch at him if he didn't.

Not that he's going to be telling Len any of this. He's been so obsessed with the kid, he'd just get annoying about not being the only one in on the Flash's secret anymore. It's not like Mick gives a damn about who Flash is.

"Oh… because there might still be a giant telepathic gorilla down there." Flash grimaces, a look of obvious guilt settling on his face. "I should make sure, but I haven't been at my best since…" He sighs. "Grodd would probably beat the shit out of me."

"This city is fucking crazy," Mick says with a shake of his head. Telepathic gorillas? What the fuck will it be next?

The rest of the dinner is over fast, and Mick gets ushered toward the couch in the living room while Flash cleans up. Of course, that means Flash is sitting on the couch grinning before Mick has decided whether he's going that way or out the door.

"I don't have any beer or anything to offer. Alcohol doesn't really work on me anymore, so I don't keep any around."

"That sucks," Mick offers, and sits down. Yeah, he should be leaving, but he just ate and right at the moment Mick doesn't mind the Flash so much.

Flash hums in agreement and the next moment his hands are on Mick's shoulders. Mick jerks around to… and groans when Flash starts moving his hands, slowly vibrating fingers kneading into his tense muscles.

Well. Fuck.

He's getting a back massage from Flash. And he sure as hell isn't about make the kid stop. Mick has a feeling the kid might have done this to him before, because he sure knows exactly what to do.

Flash pushes at Mick to get him into a better position and Mick doesn't feel much like arguing. He just makes approving noises when Flash works out some of the more persistent kinks with his vibrating hands.

"I don't even care if you believe me," Flash says at some point, voice low and ragged. "I'm just so fucking glad you're here."

* * *

Mick wakes up on a couch, covered with a blanket. He's still in his clothes, but at least he doesn't seem to have slept wearing his shoes. It takes a moment before he remembers. Flash, right.

He was... fucking massaged to sleep.

Mick sits up, pushing the blanket down to the floor. He rubs at his eyes with one hand. There's light coming in from the window, and he blinks to focus his eyes.

A mug of coffee appears in his hands and the blanket vanishes from the floor. He doesn't even have time to see Flash.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Flash calls from the kitchen.

Mick takes a sip of the coffee, it's black and bitter and helps him wake up a bit more. He shakes his head and walks to the kitchen, taking a few more sips of the coffee on the way. When he sits down at the table, breakfast is already being set before him. Flash sits down across the table, wearing a faded tank top and grey sleep pants. 

Flash, it turns out, eats ridiculous amounts of breakfast too.

"How much do you eat?" Mick asks, because dinner was one thing, but now this too?

Flash pauses for a moment. "A lot. It's a speed thing, I burn a lot of calories," he says and continues eating.

"Is that why you were always hungry in the future?" Mick did pick up something from all the stuff Flash has been going on about. Hard not to when the kid just keeps on talking. And since Flash is so happy to share, Mick might as well ask if he wants to know.

Flash nods. "That, and there really wasn't a lot of food to go around. A lot of the time I couldn't use my speed because there wasn't enough to eat. I'd pass out from hunger if I tried, but learning not to use my speed was hard." Flash laughs suddenly. "You beat the crap out of me a few times before I got the hang of fighting."

"We were enemies?" Mick asks, because that isn't what Flash has been making it sound like. And since he is having breakfast with Flash at the moment, enemies doesn't seem to be what Flash thinks they are.

"Nah." Flash shakes his head. "We started out pretty much the same as what you'd remember, I think, but we got over it. It was training." He grins at Mick. "Or at least that's what you called it."

They finish the rest of the breakfast in silence. It's surprisingly comfortable.

Flash speeds through the clean up again and then stops to look at Mick. "I need to get to work, but I can drop you off at… did you leave a car or something at Saints and Sinners?"

"Yeah," Mick says and gets up to get his jacket, and pull on his shoes.

When he gets to the door, Flash is already waiting for him, dressed for work.

He thrusts a bit of paper at Mick and Mick takes it without thinking.

"My number," Flash says, rubbing the back of his head and looking embarrassed. "Do whatever you want with it."

The next thing Mick knows, he's standing outside Saints and Sinners and Flash is gone.

Mick gets into his car. He looks at the scrap of paper he's still holding on to.

"Fuck," he grumbles and pulls out his phone.

_thanks for the lighter_ , he sends and saves the contact.

* * *

Mick is still very much Mick in any time, Barry decides. Of course it matters that Mick doesn't remember Barry the way Barry remembers him – it hurts when he takes the time to think about it – but in some ways it makes no difference at all.

This is still _Mick_. And suddenly so much of the constant noise in Barry's head just falls away. There's no need to second guess every decision and every move.

For a while Barry is just himself, whoever that is these days.

Of course it was stupid and reckless to go to Mick. Barry knows better. In this timeline it still matters what side of the law people are on. In this time things aren't already falling apart.

This time will never be like that.

And yet... he can't regret it, because he can breathe again. The world feels a bit more real for having Mick in it.

There's a text from Mick when he arrives at his lab at the CCPD. _thanks for the lighter_ , it says and it makes Barry smile. He saves the number, just in case.

He almost puts the phone away, but then before he can change his mind, he sends a text to Iris, asking her out for coffee after work.

* * *

Iris is like a ray of sunshine, so brilliant that it hurts.

She hugs him and gets them coffees and tells him all about her and Eddie's wedding plans. Probably because she doesn't want to push Barry away now that he reached out to her, by asking him questions he's been reluctant to answer.

"I don't really know anything about flower arrangements," Barry says at some point. His smile feels brittle, but real enough.

"At least your eyes haven't glazed over the way Eddie's usually do whenever I start talking about flowers or cake flavours. Or any of the details really." She laughs a bit at that, looking more fond than anything else.

"I can listen," Barry answers with a small smile. "As long as you don't expect any actual opinions."

"Then you can only blame yourself when you end up in a horribly ugly dress," Iris tells him, mischief shining in her eyes.

It takes a moment for Barry to connect the dots. In his defense weddings aren't something he's thought about in a very long time.

"You want me to be your Maid of Honour?" He asks, not even trying to hide his surprise.

Iris laughs. "Who else would I ask?"

Her words make Barry's heart clench, but he doesn't really mind the ache.

Somehow by the time they leave, Barry has promised to go look at wedding dresses with Iris, because that's what Maids of Honour do. It makes Iris smile so brightly that he can't find it in himself to regret it.

* * *

There's thirty-two seconds left until they need to be out, when the Flash appears in front of Len during an otherwise relatively unremarkable little heist.

He's blocking Len's exit.

It's the first time he's seen the Flash since he left Barry lying on the ground at Ferris Air. 

Since he broke Barry's trust.

"Cold," the Flash says, his voice impassive. Len wonders how hard it is for Barry to force himself not to betray any kind of feeling, he's usually too easy to read.

"Flash," he answers, aiming the cold gun at Barry one handed, his other hand occupied with holding a bag of stolen goods. "We'll just be leaving, if you don't mind."

Twenty-four seconds left and Len starts to edge around Barry while holding the cold gun pointed at him.

"I can't let you do that," Barry says, his tone still so very blank.

From the corner of his eye Len can see Mick turn around and… a beam of heat hits where Barry isn't standing anymore.

Len takes the opportunity to dash for the exit. Only fourteen seconds left.

Of course Barry is there in his way again. Len squeezes the trigger of the cold gun.

Ice forms on the wall behind where Barry had stood. He tries to anticipate Barry's movements, it shouldn't be that hard in the small space of the jewelry store.

He misses again.

He can hear the sirens getting louder. At least Mick is already out with a good part of the stolen jewelry. Lisa will be waiting in the getaway car. He hears the engine revving.

Len's almost out of time.

Barry stops in front of him again.

"I think that's your escape route vanishing," he says, sounding amused.

The cold gun is levelled at Barry. Barry grins at Len, and blurs.

Len doesn't pull the trigger and the next moment he's… in what looks like an abandoned warehouse.

"I'll take that," Barry says, pointing at the bag Len's still holding.

Len adjusts his aim.

He weighs the risks of continuing the fight against the amount of jewelry Mick and Lisa got away with, and the fact that he still doesn't know how angry Barry is with him after the last time. He points the cold gun up towards the ceiling and powers it down.

"No speeding me off to your detective friends, Scarlet?" Len asks as he grudgingly hands over the bag.

Barry scoffs. Not exactly amused, but not angry either. "There won't be any solid proof it was you at the store."

True enough, Len is good at what he does. But it does beg the question of why Barry flashed him out of there, unless he was just worried about his secret identity. They do still have a deal after all.

Len smirks at him. "True. If that was all," he says, letting the sentence trail off as he starts to walk away from Barry.

"Unless you want me to drop you off somewhere?"

That makes Len stop and turn back to look at Barry. He's pulled the cowl down, and is looking decidedly flustered. Now where on earth did that suggestion come from?

"You're free to walk of course, it just might be a bit far. Or maybe you like long walks, I wouldn't know." Barry goes on quickly, a slight blush on his cheeks once he's finished.

Len tilts his head and looks consideringly at the speedster for a moment.

"Well, if you're offering," he says with a smirk, and Barry's blush actually deepens. How very intriguing.

Len rattles of an address that's definitely not anywhere near where Mick and Lisa were going. He's almost surprised when Barry actually does drop him off where Len asked him to.

* * *

Barry doesn't mean to run in on Len's heist. If he'd known it was Len, he would have stayed away.

He sees Len and for a moment the world slows down to a stop.

He takes the moment to stare at Len. It feels… it feels like someone is trying to claw out his heart. Why does it hurt so much?

Len is alive and here and… it's not supposed to hurt.

He forces himself back into normal speed. Makes himself act as close to normal as he can remember. He knows he doesn't get it quite right. He knows he definitely screws it up by the end. It's been too long since he thought of Len as anything even close to an enemy.

Too long since Len was anything but a memory kept alive by the cold, as it slows Barry down when he holds a gun never meant for a speedsters hands.

After he drops Len off he runs. He runs until he stumbles and falls to his knees in a forest somewhere. He rips the cowl down, gasping for breath.

He remembers...

_...Len's mouth on his… Len gasping and moaning under him… hands frantically pulling off clothing…_

...the cold gun clutched in his arms, cold seeping into his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mick is just real easy, but hey food, alcohol and back rubs, who'd say no to that... right? ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's too cold to write. Yes, I'm going to blame the cold outside (well, my apartment could definitely be warmer too) for the time it took me to get this chapter up.

_Damn it!_ He forgot his speed isn't quite what he remembers. Not yet. Not _now_. 

Barry's been running himself ragged almost every night, just so he can collapse into bed and _not think_. Exhaustion dogs his steps and weighs him down constantly and he knows it's no way to get back in touch with his abilities in the here and now. 

He can still run circles around normal criminals, both figuratively and literally. So far that's all Barry's had to deal with since he came back – the thought of Grodd still roaming under the streets of the city flashes through his mind – maybe it's all he's let himself deal with. 

He's down on his knees, hailstones as big as fists flying into him. He hardly notices his ribs cracking. It's not the hail that's the problem really, it's the damned blizzard and the _cold_ surrounding him. 

He wasn't fast enough to get to Weather Wizard before the cold slowed him down. Before it made him vulnerable to that damnable hail, still flying into him. 

Barry blinks, grits his teeth and forces himself to move. He has to fight against the cold to keep moving. He knows the feeling well enough and he knows the toll it will take on his body, but he's run out of choices. 

He moves fast enough and far enough that Mardon loses sight of him, and the hail, at least, stops for a while. The cold on the other hand is everywhere. It's getting harder to fight it every moment. He only needs to get to Mardon, he reminds himself. Just close enough to... 

He sucks in a breath of freezing air. He just needs to get close enough. 

He runs. 

He's only a few feet away from Mardon when a blast of fire from above rocks both of them. Barry stumbles to a halt. He grabs his right hand with his left; the hand's still vibrating, despite the cold, and for a moment he thinks he can't make it _stop_. 

He would have… he shoves the thought away and spares a look at Firestorm, who's making his landing not too far away from Barry. Mardon pushes himself up from where he'd fallen to the ground. 

"Am I late?" Firestorm asks, the grin audible in his voice. 

"Just in time," Barry says, shivering with the cold. He doesn't let himself think about how true his words are. 

Now that there's time to notice, he hurts everywhere. 

* * *

After he gets dropped off at Saints and Sinners, Mick doesn't hear anything from Flash in weeks. There isn't even an acknowledgment that Flash got the text he sent. Mick doesn't care about it, but Flash seemed like one of those people who would answer a text even when he doesn't need to. 

_Do you wanna help me with something?_ Flash sends one day, without any explanation. 

Mick would have ignored it but it's been too long since that last heist of theirs – the one Flash barged in on – and Snart suddenly deciding he needed to focus on recruiting people instead of planning a new job. 

Snart likes to lay low between jobs, so having over two weeks of nothing isn't anything new, not even all that long really. Most of the time Mick doesn't mind, but usually Snart is at least planning something new. And most of the time he doesn't have much to say if Mick or Lisa pull some small jobs on the side to tide them over, but the last idea Lisa had brought up to Snart had been shot down. It would have worked fine with just Lisa and Mick too. 

Mick's pretty sure that if Snart doesn't get off his ass soon, Lisa will ask Mick to do the job with her anyway. It's not like she needs her brother's approval for it. 

_what?_ Mick sends in return, because he's _bored_ and whatever Flash wants, it'll be something to do while waiting for one of the Snarts to make up their minds. 

_Meet me at star labs and I'll explain_ Mick gets in answer. Len might have said something about Flash working out of S.T.A.R. Labs at some point, but if he did Mick hadn't really been paying attention. But he does remember that Flash works with a team, and wouldn't that mean they'd be at S.T.A.R. Labs too? So why would Flash ask Mick there? 

Another message arrives before he's decided on anything. _Take the gun,_ it says. Mick snorts when he reads it, like he'd go meet Flash without it. 

Flash is outside the main entrance waiting when Mick gets there, wearing normal clothes and not Flash's getup. Did he just assume Mick would come running when he called? Or maybe he'd seen Mick on the security cameras – they had to have some – it's not like Flash wouldn't be fast enough to be out here waiting if that's the case. 

"You came," Flash says, smiling and visibly excited, before wilting a bit. Flash shuffles his feet and starts looking increasingly awkward. "I mean, hi? Come on in, it's just me here." 

Mick nods a greeting, and follows Flash inside. "Did you chase all your friends away?" 

Flash's steps slow down a bit and he twists back to look at Mick, never actually stopping. "Some time ago, actually. I just…" The Flash doesn't finish the sentence, just turns back around and picks up his pace. "It's easier when they're not around all the time." 

Mick keeps following Flash as he starts chattering on about the horrible security at S.T.A.R. Labs, and how anyone can walk in at any time. He talks about times when that actually happened. Mick can't tell if the stories are from the past, or the future that Flash is so hung up on. If the security is so godawful, why doesn't Flash do something about it? 

Several corridors and an elevator ride later they get to what looks like a big, empty room. It's hard to say how big it actually is, because there aren't lights much further than where they're standing. 

Flash looks at him, almost bouncing in place. 

"Why am I here?" Mick asks, since Flash has been rambling on about everything but that. 

"Because I need to practice. I mean, I've known I was off my game since I came back. But that was... " he waves a hand in a gesture that doesn't mean anything. "I can figure out how fast I am currently and work on some of the fine control, but the fight with Weather Wizard yesterday…" Flash trails off, and rubs a hand over his eyes. "Fuck, if Firestorm hadn't been there…" He shakes his head softly. 

"That's the guy on fire?" Mick asks, because he'd seen the news footage and that was fucking awesome! 

"Yeah," Flash says with a small chuckle. "I'd offer to introduce you, but that's probably a bad idea," Flash continues, looking less antsy now. "Like I was saying, I realised I don't remember how to… hold back. So I need to practice." 

Mick wonders if what Flash is saying is at all like how he… loses himself sometimes. "What if Firestorm hadn't shown up?" Mick asks. 

Flash looks at him with some very complicated expression, that Mick doesn't even bother trying to figure out. "I would have killed Mardon." 

Mick barely knows the guy – has only met Mardon now that Len is trying to recruit him into his little group of misfits – but he sure wouldn't have shed any tears on Mardon's behalf. So he's not exactly sure where the problem is, it's not like Flash hasn't killed people before. "And what do you want me to do about it, Flash?" 

It's like someone flicked a switch the way Flash suddenly goes back to looking excited. "I want you to fight me. I know you won't hesitate to hurt me, and I don't actually want _you_ to get hurt," Flash says, like that explains everything. 

"Let me get this straight – you want me to hurt you?" Mick asks, pulling out the heat gun. He can feel the grin spreading on his own face. 

"I want you to try." 

* * *

The heat gun is yanked away from his hands and the next thing Mick knows Flash is standing a good ten feet from him, aiming the gun at Mick and looking a bit unsteady on his feet. Flash bats one handedly at his own thigh, where his sweats are smoldering lightly. The sweatshirt had been a lost cause at some point. Mick can see some angry red burns on his upper body where he'd managed to graze the kid, but nothing as bad as it should have been. Fuck, a normal human wouldn't be alive after that. 

Mick takes a step toward Flash and Flash vanishes, only to reappear right in front of Mick without the gun. Mick punches him, but Flash moves too fast; of course he does. Except Flash stumbles, then blurs again, and Mick grunts as he's hit several times in rapid succession – too fast for him to do anything, but not hard enough to cause any real damage. Flash falters again, falling out of superspeed mid hit and Mick catches his fist. 

He feels more than hears the wrist snap. Flash snarls, Mick can hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, Flash's free hand blurs around the edges and... Flash suddenly relaxes, his free hand falling to his side, the other one still held in Mick's grip. 

"Enough," Flash says, voice hoarse, and out of breath. 

Mick takes a breath and tries to force himself somewhere close to calm. Flash's hand settles on his bicep, gripping it lightly. Mick shakes his head a bit, and finally lets go of Flash's hand. "That was fun." 

* * *

They barely get out of the elevator when Flash stumbles, and steadies himself with his working hand against a wall. 

"I might have gone a bit overboard on the realism," Flash says faintly. He tries to take a step away from the wall and immediately starts keeling over. Mick takes a quick step closer and grabs Flash's arm before he falls down, and Flash just leans into Mick instead. "Food would be good now," he mumbles against Mick's chest. 

Mick sighs and heaves Flash up into his arms. 

"My hero," the kid breathes out on a sigh, barely loud enough for Mick to hear. 

"Where am I going?" Mick asks him. 

He gets mumbled directions and it doesn't take long before he can put Flash down on a couch in some sort of lounge area. Flash has him get some kind of energy bars from one of the cabinets and a bottle of water from the fridge, Mick grabs a water for himself too. 

Flash swallows down the energy bars at speeds that really aren't normal, and then tries to open his bottle of water one handed. Mick grabs it from him, twisting the cap open before handing it back. 

Flash gives him a grateful smile and downs the whole bottle of water. 

"Sit down Mick," Flash says pointing at the other end of the couch with his working hand. Mick shrugs and sits. Flash still isn't wearing a shirt, and Mick can't help staring at the now faded red marks on his body. "I heal fast," Flash says, obviously having noticed what Mick was looking at. 

"The wrist?" Mick asks, looking at the right hand resting in Flash's lap, the wrist still bent at an unnatural angle. 

Flash looks down at the hand and then sighs, prodding at it with his uninjured hand. "This'll be easier if you help me set it." 

Mick shrugs – fair enough, since Mick's the one who broke it – and moves closer to Flash in order to do whatever Flash needs him to. It takes a few tries to get it right, but Flash only gives a soft grimace at the pain, and then a long sigh once they're done, before carefully setting his arm down so as not to ruin all the work. 

"Should be good as new in a few hours," Flash says. 

Mick pets the heat gun gently. "Can this actually hurt you?" 

Flash seems to consider the question for a moment. "If you fire at me long enough, I don't think even my healing could keep up. But you'd have to make me stay still for that." 

"Good," Mick says, not bothering to explain himself. 

Flash looks at him like he understands anyway. 

* * *

Barry knows he's blurring the lines again when he asks Mick to come help Barry make himself feel better about what almost happened with Mardon. The Barry Allen he should be has no business spending time with Mick. Again. 

But the thing is that Barry _needs_ to know he can count on himself to not cross the line when it counts, and even if he'd be willing to explain to anyone else… who else could he ask that wouldn't pull their punches when it comes right down to it? 

He doesn't think about how much he misses Mick. 

Barry flexes his wrist experimentally making sure everything is healing right, it still aches a bit, but it's good enough to use in a pinch. Mick's eyes track the movements, and Barry grins at him. "See, all good," he says, but lets the hand fall down on his lap to finish healing. 

Mick grunts in acknowledgement. Barry wonders if this is the moment Mick will leave. He's surprised Mick is still here and he can't really think of any other reason why Mick would have stayed. Not that quietly watching Barry heal seems like much of a reason either. 

The quiet settles back over them and Barry lets his mind wander again. 

After Mardon fled – after they let him flee – Firestorm told Barry they'd try to be around more. The thought terrifies Barry, but he also kind of looks forward to it. The easy joy that Firestorm feels at what they do is palpable and Barry misses that. He misses feeling excited about what he can do. 

Maybe that's the real reason he asked Mick to fight him. 

"You're right," Barry says into the quiet. "It was fun." 

"You really don't get out much, do you kid?" 

"Is it that obvious?" Barry says, trying to keep his tone light, but the words come out sounding mostly tired. He shrugs. "I wasn't sure I remembered what fun felt like," he admits. His voice is quiet and steady, but the words still feel sharp and jagged and they scrape at his insides as they fall out one by one, leaving him feeling raw and vulnerable. 

Mick takes his time before saying anything. "I'm always up for a good fight," Mick offers offhandedly, like it's no big deal at all. Barry feels something unwind at the base of his spine, and he closes his eyes briefly and takes a slow breath. 

Without letting himself think too much about what he's saying, he tells Mick about Firestorm being around, about the metahuman task force, about how he's still avoiding talking to Joe about anything that's not work, about how he can't quite make himself go see his dad again. 

Some time later, when he happens to complain about not having Hartley around to help him fix his accelerator issue, Barry doesn't really mean anything by it. It's just something to fill the silence with. 

"Rathaway?" Mick asks. "I think Snart recruited him," he says with a shrug and Barry blinks at the freely shared information. Mick hasn't really been all that forthcoming about that stuff so far. "He'll show up at Saints at some point." 

"Should you be telling me that?" Barry wonders. 

"Probably not," Mick answers, and looks almost satisfied at the thought. Barry decides that he doesn't need to know. 

"Would you let me know when he's around? I just want to talk to him, see if he'll want to help." 

It's true that Barry has been planning on doing something about the accelerator, because the thought of anyone using it again is unacceptable. All things considered he should ask Cisco for help, but Barry still can't stand the idea of Cisco looking at him with fear in his eyes. So asking Hartley for help instead seems like… well, a possibly horrible idea actually. But Hartley isn't all that bad, really. 

Maybe Barry owes Hartley something for not listening to him about Wells, or maybe it's a debt that Barry incurred in a future Hartley will never know about. Maybe seeing the best in people, and trying to reach out to his enemies is something that Barry Allen is supposed to do. Barry doesn't even know anymore. 

"Sure," Mick says and shakes his head, looking like he might already regret the decision. 

* * *

Barry meets Iris at the wedding dress store as promised. Iris texted him earlier in the day to remind him, but even if it had been weeks since he agreed to be here there was no way he could have forgotten. Not when it's the first time since he's been back that he'll have to spend hours of uninterrupted time together with Iris. 

She's waiting for him outside the store, looking as radiant as ever. 

"Hey," she says, and hesitates a moment before hugging him briefly. 

He hugs her back, whispering, "Hey yourself." He gives her a slightly shaky smile when she steps back. Hopefully she'll just think he's nervous about the prospect of having to spend time giving opinions about wedding dresses. 

Yeah, right. 

"Come on then," she says and walks inside. Barry follows her meekly. 

They're immediately accosted by a salesperson whose professional smile is only slightly belied by the faintly harried look around her eyes. He thinks he should try and smile at her, but he can't quite manage it. 

"No, he's my maid of honour," he hears Iris tell the salesperson, jarring Barry back from his own thoughts. 

"That's me," Barry agrees and manages a faint upturn of his lips that might count as a smile. 

The hours that follow are filled with wedding dress after wedding dress, on which Barry is expected to express an opinion. Iris makes each of them look good, because she could make a sack look good if she wanted to. 

"Barry," Iris tells him – wearing the fifth try at the perfect wedding dress – as she turns to look at herself in the floor length mirror, "this dress looks ridiculous." 

"A tiny bit," Barry agrees. "But you're still beautiful in it." 

She scowls at the mirror. "That's not really helpful. You're supposed to tell me if the dresses are horrible." 

"Oh, now you want my opinion on fashion?" Barry looks away from her for a moment. It's too easy to remember a teenaged Iris trying on clothes, and ignoring Barry's opinions about them. He clears his throat. "So far, I liked the second one best," he says. 

Iris nods, still looking at herself in the mirror. "I liked that one too. There's still a couple more I want to try on though. And next Saturday, we're going to another store." 

That's news to Barry, but he has to admit that this hasn't been too bad. He can probably sit around and offer unhelpful opinions on dresses another time. "How many fittings are you planning on?" Barry asks, feeling slightly suspicious. 

"I don't know," Iris says innocently. "I'll know when we find the right dress." 

Once they're done – after eleven dresses, only two of which are deemed acceptable – Iris insists that they go for a coffee. They end up at a nearby cafe, and Barry is grateful that at least it isn't Jitters. 

"We're worried about you," Iris says once they're sitting down with their coffees. " _I'm_ worried about you." 

Barry freezes, the not-quite-ease of the previous hours bleeding away in a moment. There's a humming in his ears, and for a moment he can't catch his breath. He shakes his head slightly and wraps his hands around his coffee. 

Lightning courses through his blood, urging him to run. He takes a sip of the still too hot coffee, and the sting of it brings him back into the moment. 

"I'm sorry," he tells his coffee, unable to look up at Iris. "You shouldn't need to be." 

"Oh, Barry. I'm always going to worry about you. Just please don't shut me out." 

The surface of his coffee is vibrating, and he realises his hands are trembling and he has to concentrate to keep them still. "I don't mean to," he says, voice cracking at the words. 

"Okay," Iris says with a small nod, and then thankfully – even if it isn't like her at all – drops the subject. 

Barry suddenly feels very grateful to be talking about wedding dresses again. 

* * *

The next time Len sees Barry is when the kid walks into Saints and Sinners, still looking painfully out of place, even in skinny jeans and a leather jacket. He stops a few steps inside and glances toward Len. 

Some expression that Len can't decipher passes over his face when his eyes catch on Len, but his gaze moves away with only a small pause, his features smoothing back to neutrality. Barry seems to find what he's looking for and starts moving again, walking up to Piper, Len's newest – and still somewhat tentative – recruit into the Rogues. 

Did Barry know Piper would be here? The Rogues have started to spend a lot of time here, but there's no reason why Barry would have known that – or that he'd recruited Piper into the ranks, for that matter. 

Piper doesn't exactly enjoy the place, only spending time here in some sort of effort to fit in. Not that he's doing that good of a job of it, sitting at the bar alone, nursing a drink, hiding in his black hoodie. 

Len nods toward the bar counter, letting his pool partner know he's getting another drink. 

He's close enough to see how Barry rests a hand against the counter, his body language relaxed when he stops beside Piper. 

"Hartley," he hears Barry say, the tone neutral enough that it has to be forced. 

Piper looks up, and his features are obscured by the hood, but for a moment he seems startled. He stands up and pushes the hood down, revealing the smirk on his lips. 

"Barry," Piper answers pointedly. 

Len wishes he could see Barry's face – but he's standing behind the kid – because there's no way to tell how Barry reacts to that. It seems like Len's insight into the Flash's secrets might not be as exclusive as he'd thought. He might have to have a talk with Piper about that. 

"I'm just here to talk." Barry says quickly, like he's heading off some inevitable questions. "I thought it'd be less… confrontational here." 

Len feels inexplicably disappointed that Barry has as good as handed Piper the advantage. Barry is out of his suit, and unless he wants to give away his secret to a bar full of criminals, there's nothing Barry Allen can do to Piper in here. 

Piper leans in toward Barry. "I can think of a few other things we could do besides talk," he says, going as far as putting a hand on Barry's arm. 

"Just to talk, Hart," Barry says, sounding exasperated. 

Len sees the flash of surprise chased by what he's pretty sure is pain on Piper's features. Piper moves his hand away from Barry and takes a step back. 

"If that's what you want, Barry," Piper answers, the emphasis on Barry's name different from before, but no less pointed. 

Barry's shoulders move in what Len thinks is a sigh, not that he can hear it. "Can we move somewhere everyone in the bar can't hear us?" 

Len wonders if Barry is aiming that at him, he supposes he wasn't exactly inconspicuous about listening in. It really doesn't usually take Len this long to order a drink. 

Piper leaves his drink behind as they move away from the counter, and Len picks up his own drink and goes back to his game of pool, keeping an eye on the pair as he does so. They seem to settle on a somewhat secluded spot against the far wall. Maybe they're not comfortable enough to sit down with each other. 

He lets the game distract him just enough that when a loud voice suddenly yells out, "I know that kid!" it makes him jump and scowl. The voice comes from somewhere to Len's right, filtering through the general noise of the bar. "He's a badge!" 

Len looks over at the man who's doing the talking. Len can't let this get out of hand and he gets ready to step in. It's some two-bit petty thief that Len remembers seeing here before, but can't remember ever hearing the name of. Not important enough for that. 

Mick gets up from the table next to the loudmouth, where he'd been enjoying a solitary drink while Len was having a game of pool. Why had he asked Mick to come with him this night, of all nights? 

He wonders if Mick will remember seeing Barry at the station, back when they'd been arrested last time. Mick hadn't exactly been paying that much attention to his surroundings at the time. 

"Is that right?" Mick's voice is a threatening rumble as he looks down at the guy making accusations. Len drops the pool cue on the table, keeping his movements casual as he heads toward the disturbance. 

"Yeah, he was there when they took me in last time," the guy goes on, seemingly encouraged by Mick's reaction. "Didn't stick," he adds with a grin at his friends sitting at the table with him. "But I remember him, he's definitely a badge," the guy says, features twisting in some mix of anger and disgust. 

Len spares a glance toward Piper and Barry, they're both looking toward the small commotion, Piper saying something, his hand on Barry's arm. Barry doesn't look particularly concerned. The guy hadn't been loud enough that Barry would necessarily have heard what had been said, but Piper surely would have. 

"Doesn't look like _he's_ bothering anyone," Mick says, the threat of violence clear in his stance. The words almost make Len's steps falter, but he steps next to Mick, still keeping himself seemingly relaxed. 

It takes the guy a bit longer than it took Len to catch on to the fact that that potential for violence is aimed at him, and not Barry. 

"What? You're defending a cop now?" The guy's chair scrapes along the floor as he starts to get up. Mick growls, taking a step forward. Len puts a hand on Mick's arm, and cocks his head at the guy. 

Despite having managed to stand up, the guy suddenly looks a lot less sure of himself. The whole bar has grown hushed with the building tension. 

"The kid looks harmless," Mick says, his voice an annoyed rumble, but the threat of immediate violence seems to have fallen away. "So sit down and finish your drink." 

The guy bristles for a moment, but Len moves his hand to rest on the gun hidden inside his jacket – no cold gun with him tonight – and the guy subsides. 

"I get it. None of my business what you want with the badge," the man says, patting the air in a placating gesture, and then finally returns to his seat. His friends give him looks that vary from annoyance to sympathy. Len tunes out whatever bluster that follows, as the guy inevitably tries to convince himself, and his friends, that he hadn't been humiliated. 

The background hum of the bar returns to normal with the threat of violence suddenly gone. 

When Len looks toward Barry and Piper next, Barry is already gone. 

* * *

Len doesn't need to catch Piper for that little chat he'd been planning, since Piper comes to him later the same evening. 

"Boss," Piper says, the same faintly mocking ring to the word like every other time Piper has used it. Len tolerates it because most people wouldn't even notice, and it keeps Piper from acting out in other ways. "We need to talk." 

"I was just thinking the same thing," Len tells him calmly, and it makes Piper tense. Len nods at the empty seat across from him, and Piper sits down. "You've been keeping secrets from me," he says without a hint of levity. 

"He said you knew," Piper says with a nod. He looks at Len from beneath slightly lowered lashes, a small smirk quirking his lips upward. "Why would I want to hide anything from you, boss?" 

Len waits him out, and it only takes a moment before Piper lifts his shoulders in a minute shrug. 

"I didn't _know_." The emphasis makes it clear that he had suspected though. Len wonders how deliberate Barry's actions had been, had he thought Piper already knew his secret? 

"And what did Barry want to talk to you about?" Using Barry's name feels strange, like a secret he doesn't really want to share with Piper – and Len isn't going to explore that feeling any further than that. 

"He offered me a job," Piper says, and he tries to hide it, but Len's pretty sure Piper is actually pleased by the idea. "I said I'd check with you first." Meaning Piper had already all but agreed. 

"What made you change your tune, Piper? Your last meeting with Barry wasn't quite so friendly." 

"How can I resist the chance to get closer to all that red leather?" Piper smiles slyly, but then his features smooth out. He knows that Len only has so much patience. "He offered to get me something I want for my..." He makes a gesture towards his ears. "I had been planning on doing it myself, but having Barry do it for me is so much more convenient." 

The way Piper smirks when he says Barry's name makes Len's fingers itch. 

"You're saying you talked him into stealing for you?" From his own experience Len knows that Barry is willing to bend a few rules when he thinks it's for a good cause, but for some reason the thought leaves a bitter taste in Len's mouth. He's decidedly not happy about Piper sharing in on Barry's secret. "And what's your part of the deal?" 

"He wants me to help him make sure the particle accelerator can't be used again." 

"Doesn't he have friends for that?" Certainly Ramon would be able to take care of it? That couldn't be worth Barry compromising those morals of his. 

Piper shrugs. "Apparently, they're not at S.T.A.R. Labs anymore," he answers and it sounds like he's quoting Barry. 

Len isn't sure what to make of that. Barry showing up here today, the way he'd acted after he'd ruined Len's heist, none of it quite fits with what he knows about Barry Allen. 

Len doesn't like not knowing all the variables. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken forever, and I've rewritten bits of this chapter over and over again trying to make it read less like an infodump and more... uh actual story. The success is questionable, but this is probably as good as it gets unless I spend another few weeks intermittently poking at this.

"Aren't you in a hurry," he says to Piper, stretching his words out into a drawl, smirk firmly in place. It's easy to bury his surprise beneath annoyance and let neither slip through for Piper to read on his face. There isn't really any reason why Piper should have waited, but Len hadn't even realised he'd already started work at S.T.A.R. Labs.

If this leads Len to more information on what's going on with Barry lately, it can only be a good thing, he reminds himself.

"It wouldn't do for Barry to change his mind," Piper answers – lingering a bit too long on Barry's name – before getting on with his report.

The Flash's sudden lack of dedicated support is surprising, but at least that helps explain why Barry wanted to hire Piper. And apparently Barry had wasted no time in acquiring – _stealing_ – whatever part it was that he'd promised Piper for his hearing aids. What exactly has happened between Barry and his friends that he'd prefer bending his morals to that extent, instead of asking them for whatever help he needs? Oh, Len has past experience to prove that Barry's morals are more flexible than Barry might be comfortable with, but Len also knows that Barry won't cross those lines if he has any other choice.

That Ramon is working for the CCPD these days is not news, but Len hadn't thought that was an exclusive work arrangement. Len hasn't quite decided yet what to make of the metahuman task force that they're putting together. Since Ramon is providing equipment and ideas – if the police are willing to consider the unconventional approach that entails – it might actually become something that has a chance of dealing with the various metahumans that turn up in Central City.

The city can't rely on the Flash always being around to deal with every metahuman threat, so it's a good idea overall to have alternatives available, but the task force might end up causing complications for Len's plans for the Rogues. Not that he can't plan around it if he needs to.

Dr. Snow's current employment seems to be a bit more of a mystery, but Piper assures him that she isn't currently at S.T.A.R. Labs. If this is a permanent state of affairs or not is another question entirely. 

Unfortunately that's more or less the extent of useful information Piper has to share. "I could tell you about the accelerator," Piper tells him, his expression a shade to earnest for anyone even casually acquainted with Piper to believe.

Len waves the offer away with a touch of annoyance. It's enough for Piper to stiffen slightly, his expression smoothing out to something more neutral. It's almost fun to balance between giving away enough, but not too much for Piper to read. For someone who never seems to have gotten the hang of getting along with people, Piper is almost a touch too good at reading them.

Len's inclined to believe Piper's observations that the Flash's little support team really has disbanded. On the other hand, it's only been a few weeks since a flying man on fire showed up to help Flash stop Mardon's bank robbery. It might still be a bit premature to assume that the Flash is completely on his own, and Len just can't see all of Barry's friends disappearing completely.

What on earth has happened?

"Find out something useful while you're there," Len tells Piper, the snap in his voice making clear that he's not entirely happy with the situation. 

"Whatever you say, boss," Piper answers, a faint note of sarcasm underlying his words. But then, that's pretty much normal for Piper.

Len lets him leave without any further comment.

Apart from Barry's sudden need to make friends with Piper – it might turn inconvenient, but so far the potential gains outweigh the risks – these recent developments haven't impacted Len's plans yet. Still, once Len has gathered his Rogues, he'll have to figure out where exactly they stand with the Flash.

So far Bivolo has agreed to join the Rogues and while Mardon is still being obstinate, his failed bank robbery has softened him to the idea of not working alone. Len suspects the hardest part will be convincing Mardon to give up his vendetta on Joe West. Len's agreement with the Flash will never survive one of his Rogues hurting Barry's foster father.

* * *

On his second update, a week later, all Piper has to report is that the Flash's little secret prison is still empty. It might just mean Barry doesn't have the time to take care of any prisoners if his friends aren't around to help. Still, Len figures Baez might want to know. She took her time there harder than any of the others.

Her fists clench at her sides when Len tells her, her lips straightening into a hard line and she nods. It takes a few moments, but she relaxes and nods again. "Good," she says. "Good," she repeats in a whisper, more to herself than for Len's benefit.

Len wonders if Barry has any idea what his prison did to people. Wonders if Barry ever gave it a second thought before locking people up into solitary confinement.

* * *

Mick walks into the safehouse Len is holed up in without knocking, carrying a six pack of beer. Len doesn't seem all that surprised.

"Mick," he says, sounding a bit annoyed as he looks up from a set of blueprints.

"Planning a job?" Mick asks and hands Len a beer, taking one for himself as well, before stashing the rest into the fridge. When he walks back out of the kitchen Len has rolled up the blueprints and is sitting back on the couch, beer in hand.

"Maybe," Len admits. "We need a test run with the new player on the field."

"You mean Firestorm?" Mick asks and sits down on the couch.

Len gives him a sharp look. "Is that what they're calling him?"

Mick shrugs. He can't be bothered to remember what the news reports had called Firestorm, but apparently not that.

Len looks at him for a moment longer before letting it go. "And we have some new players of our own."

"Isn't Piper busy with work?" Mick asks, making Len scowl.

Mick was starting to regret letting Flash know Piper was around, if only because Len had been in a pissy mood ever since Flash showed up for that talk with Piper. Mick had still been annoyed at Len when Flash had complained about not having _Hartley_ around for something or other, and he might not have thought things all the way through.

"It better not get in the way," Len says, voice cold.

"What's got into you lately Snart? You think Piper's gonna rat on us?"

"He wouldn't dare." It's a promise of what will happen to Piper if he ever even dares think of doing something so stupid. It makes Mick grin.

"So what is it then?" Mick insists.

Len lets his head fall back against the couch. "Something's changed Mick, and I'm not sure I like it."

Mick's not stupid enough not to know what Len's talking about. This is about Flash. Again.

* * *

_Snart's acting like someone stole his favorite toy. Fix it!_ Mick stares at the message he's just written, and wonders – for once – if this is actually a good idea.

Mick growls and hits send. He's been looking out for Len for more than half his life by now. Most of the time that means he gets to hit things, or burn them, not fucking play go between with him and his favourite superhero.

_What!?_ The answer arrives almost immediately.

_He's been pissy since you got friendly with Piper_

It takes a while before he gets an answer for that one, not that he's waiting for one. He gets a beer from the fridge in the meantime.

_Is he jealous?_ Mick stares at the words on the small screen, what the fuck kind of question is that?

_how the fuck should I know_ , he sends back and tosses the phone on the kitchen counter, opens the fridge door to get another beer and then changes his mind and grabs the bottle of vodka instead. He needs to get drunk, and then he really needs to get into a fight.

He wonders if Flash is busy.

* * *

Barry had been quite successful at not thinking about Len. Even when he'd actually seen Len at Saint's and Sinner's he'd still managed to keep himself together and _not think about him_. And all it takes is a text from Mick for all of that to fall to pieces.

_Is he jealous?_ Barry can hardly believe he asked that. In that moment it'd been the only thing he could think of. The sense of hope and longing welling up out of nowhere and overwhelming all rational thought.

He doesn't know how long it took before the cold hand of reality wrapped itself around his heart again. This isn't his Len and no amount of hope and longing for something that has never been will change that fact.

But it's been _days_ and he can't stop thinking about it.

What if there's still a chance?

The urge to run until he can't think anymore hits him so hard it makes him shake, and he has to concentrate for a moment to make himself stay still. He's not doing that to himself anymore. He can't afford to keep running away from everything.

* * *

"Can you take this to Cold?" Barry asks, handing a folded piece of paper to Hartley. He can still call Len _Cold_ easily enough, but if he tries for _Snart_ it feels like he's choking on the name.

He feels like a damned coward, pawning of the decision on Len. But he can't… he just _can't _.__

Hartley looks up from the laptop he's typing on, gives Barry a somewhat annoyed look and takes the paper. He opens it, because of course he does.

"You know this is not the nineties, and we're not in high school?" Hartley asks, with a sneer.

"That's not…" Barry starts automatically, feeling the blush creeping up on him. "Just do it Hartley."

Hartley smiles like someone has just handed him a brand new, very secret, experimental computer chip – Barry would know, since he stole one of those for Hartley. That definitely fell into the category of things Barry Allen shouldn't have done, but it had also been an offer Barry knew from his version of the future Hartley would be hard pressed to say no to.

"Does this mean I have a chance at seeing what's under all the red leather, after all?"

"I just need to talk to him Hart," Barry says, doing his best to ignore the blush he can feel heating his cheeks. It's absolutely ridiculous that he still blushes so easily.

"You keep saying that." Hartley tucks the note away and resumes his work on the laptop. "I'll take your love note to Snart," he says when Barry doesn't leave. He doesn't look up from his work.

Barry sighs, and he's not sure whether it's more from exasperation or relief. Why did he want Hartley here again?

* * *

"I don't mind giving you updates on what's going on, boss," Piper says as he sits down across from Len. "But I'm not going to start passing notes between the two of you."

Len raises a deliberate eyebrow.

Piper hands over a twice folded piece of paper, a rather unimpressed look on his face. "If I had gone to high school, I'm sure this is what it would have been like."

Len takes the paper, and slips it into a pocket in his jacket without giving it a look. There's a fleeting look of disappointment on Piper's face, before it quickly turns into a belligerent smirk. Whatever the note says, Piper's bound to have read it already.

"Do you have anything actually useful to tell me?" Len drawls, and Piper's grin turns a bit more forced.

"He doesn't exactly confide in me." Piper scowls. "I think he's trying to patch up whatever problems he has with his team of sidekicks, he's not going to have any use for me when that happens."

It's almost enough to make him feel bad for Piper. He actually seems to be enjoying his time at S.T.A.R. Labs with Barry. It seems like even with the place more or less shut down there are still resources there that would be hard to come by otherwise, or so Piper tells him. Len's pretty sure that's not quite all there is to it; despite his abrasive manner Piper is quite desperate to fit in somewhere.

The fact that Barry has let Piper more or less have the run of the place shouldn't bother Len. It gives one of his Rogues the opportunity to upgrade his tech and maybe even find out something useful, Len's got no reason to complain. He still wants to shake some sense into Barry.

Piper doesn't have much else to tell him, and they trade a few more words before Piper takes his leave. Len gets himself another drink, and only when he's back alone at his usual booth does he fish out the piece of paper from his pocket.

He unfolds it calmly and looks down at the slightly messy, but legible enough, scrawl. _Call me?_ it says, followed by a phone number that he assumes belongs to Barry.

Well, this is definitely new. He considers the phone number for a moment.

There shouldn't be any harm in seeing what Barry wants, he decides.

Barry picks up on the second ring. "Hey?" The word sounds somewhat absent, like his attention is on something else entirely. It's only late afternoon, so there's a good chance Barry is at work.

"Aren't you a bit old to be passing notes?"

There's a moment of silence before Barry answers. "It was either that or come visit your bar, and considering how things went last time I was there, I thought I'd try this first." There's a slight quiver to Barry's voice, and Len can't quite put his finger on the emotion behind it, not through a phone connection. At least he definitely doesn't sound distracted anymore.

"Well, you have my attention."

"Great. Do you… umm… I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee or something?" Len blinks. The words sound rushed and hesitant all at the same time, like Barry is in a hurry to get them out before he changes his mind.

What does Barry want to talk to him about, that he doesn't want to say over the phone? Or really, what does Barry want to talk to him about at all?

"Are you asking me out on a date, Scarlet?" Len drawls, making sure to sound just the right amount of amused. The nickname is a reminder to both of them of where they stand with each other.

"No! Why would you think that?" The denial is immediate, and if Len was someone else that might hurt, no matter that Len's own comment had been meant to fluster Barry. "Unless… do you want it to be?" Barry follows up after a moment of silence, his voice quieter and a bit breathless. Even over the phone, the silence that follows Barry's question seems fragile.

"I can do coffee," Len says, sidestepping the question. "Can't have you make a habit of showing up at my favourite bar."

"It does seem to make some people nervous," Barry says, the lightness sounding more than a bit forced. "Tomorrow? I should have lunch at noon, unless something comes up."

Len holds back a sigh; the impreciseness of the time grates at him, but he'll ignore it this time. "I'm sure I can make myself available. Where do you want to meet?"

"Uh… I'll text you?"

* * *

"Gideon?" Barry says tentatively into the empty room. Maybe he's screwed up somehow, and it won't even work. Maybe that would be for the best. 

The dark room lights up with Gideon's blue glow. "Hello, Barry Allen."

He's going to have coffee with Len tomorrow. It's madness and Barry isn't sure that talking to Len won't absolutely gut him, but he can't even pretend to regret agreeing to see him. Gideon however is an unquestionably _terrible_ idea with way too much potential of things going monumentally wrong in a space and time shattering way, so on the scale of bad ideas, coffee with Len seems pretty harmless really.

Fucking around with time, Barry has learned, is a really, really bad idea if you don't know what you're doing. Well, considering Eobard… it's probably a bad idea even when you do know what you're doing. Barry only has a faint idea, and really shitty experience.

He swallows. His hands are trembling, he notices.

"Are you… functioning properly?" Barry asks the AI.

"Yes," she answers, without elaborating, which is good. He probably shouldn't know too much about how she works.

He thinks of Mick. Of Len and coffee.

He thinks of Iris and all those wedding dresses.

Barry takes a deep breath, and tries to force his voice to stay calm. "I need your help Gideon."

Yes, this is a bad idea, but he doesn't know what else to do, and he's done running away from his problems. He can't let anything like the other timeline happen again, and if he needs Gideon's help to make sure of that, then he'll take it.

"Of course, what can I do for you Barry Allen?"

"Can you…" Barry hesitates, he's not quite sure how to ask something without getting information about the future that he really shouldn't have. He already has too much of that. "If I ask you something, can you answer me without knowledge from the future?"

That's probably a bad way of phrasing himself, because the AI itself is basically knowledge of the future, right?

God, this is giving him a headache already.

"No. But I can restrict my answers to include only information up to your current date."

Barry thinks it over for a while. "So, are you still getting, like, new information from the future?"

"I am still able to update my time files, yes," she answers in her calm voice.

Barry rubs his temple with a still slightly trembling hand. He's traveled in time and this is still all mind-bending; there's no way Gideon could be from the future Barry lived through. "So… You could give me information from the future, but keep it to things that have already happened… here? To this… in this time?"

"In effect, yes."

"Okay, will you do that?" Barry asks her, remembering that she might need specific instructions. "Unless I specifically ask otherwise."

"As you wish."

Barry wonders if that's enough of a precaution. It's tempting to just ask her how things will unfold in the future, but if he starts down that road who knows where it'll end. He's already trying to avoid one future, he doesn't need to worry about more of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite having texted Len a place – a small, intimate cafe on the other side of town from the CCPD, and Len appreciates that bit of forethought on Barry's part – along with a more precise time, Barry is still late.

"Three minutes," Len points out when Barry slides into the seat across from him.

"Sorry, Joe wanted to talk to me." Barry offers as an explanation. "I had to promise him we'd talk later," he says with a small sigh and something that looks almost like guilt.

"Family trouble?" Len asks with a smirk.

"I'll just get our coffees," Barry says, standing up, apparently happy to completely ignore Len's question. Len can't say he's surprised about that, family can be such a touchy subject. "What do you want?" Barry asks, and for a fraction of a second he forgets Barry's asking about his choice of coffee.

He gives Barry his order, and watches him as he walks up to the counter. He wonders suddenly why he agreed to this. Len doesn't doubt that Barry really would have showed up at Saints and Sinners, but he could have dealt with that if he needed to. Here Len's on foreign ground, in some cozy little cafe that makes him feel like this is definitely something more than just a friendly coffee between enemies.

Looking at Barry now, it's not like he can deny the appeal of Barry's lithe body, won't deny that he might have _looked_ now and then. He'll even go as far as admitting that it's kind of flattering to think that someone more than a decade and a half younger than Len would be interested. Even more so that _Barry_ might be.

If it was just sex, Len would probably not hesitate to take what he wants, but with the two of them it could never be _just_ anything. Whatever they do, it will inevitably spill over into Flash and Cold, because that is who they are.

Annoyed at himself, Len cuts of that train of thought. He doesn't usually let himself get away with idle speculation like this. He doesn't even know why Barry asked him here yet. He's just letting the setting get to him more than it should.

Barry sets their coffees down on the table and sits back down. "Family trouble? Yeah, I guess you could say that. Things are a bit strained," Barry says to Len's surprise. He'd assumed that topic had been dismissed earlier. "It's my fault really, but I'm working on it." It makes Barry look sad for a moment, before he hides his expression behind his cup of coffee.

Len sips at his own coffee. Despite himself Len's warmed by the fact that Barry felt like sharing a topic as personal as family with him. He wonders what the hell he's supposed to say though. Family isn't a topic he actually wants to talk about. Abruptly, Barry solves the problem for him.

"Are you angry at me, or something, for letting Hartley know who I am?" Barry asks bluntly. Well, that answers one question at least. Barry did let Piper in on the secret deliberately.

"What gave you that impression?" Len asks, wondering what exactly Piper has been telling Barry.

"I don't know." Barry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Hartley is pretty lonely, you know. We talk sometimes. Don't worry, he doesn't tell me about your Rogue business." Barry gives him a small smile that Len thinks is meant to be reassuring. "I just get the feeling you've been more annoyed at him than usual. You know he would have figured it out eventually anyway, right?"

"You have to admit it was a bit reckless," Len says, keeping the discussion firmly on Barry and his actions. How Len deals with any of his Rogues is none of Barry's business.

"That's me, always running before I think," Barry says, with a bitter little twist of his mouth. This conversation has turned into a veritable minefield of things that Len doesn't quite see coming, and Barry doesn't even seem to try to avoid.

Bitterness like that seems wrong on Barry, and before Len really has time to think about it he's reached out and covered one of Barry's hands with his own. This damned cafe is definitely getting to him.

"You trust people," Len says, like it's a good thing. Like Len didn't leave him lying on an abandoned airfield, hurt and betrayed, to teach him a lesson about where trusting people gets you.

Barry smiles at him – sad or grateful, Len can't quite decide – and Len pulls his hand back, wrapping his hands around his mug of coffee instead.

"Not quite as much as you seem to think," Barry says with a quirk of his lips that would look smug on anyone else. He's trying, maybe a bit too hard, to shake of the mood of the previous moment. "The security at S.T.A.R. Labs might be ridiculous, but there are cameras _everywhere_."

"That so?" Len says, keeping his expression and voice neutral.

"Yes." Barry on the other hand seems to be holding back laughter. "Why do you think Hartley hasn't found enough time to actually hack into anything? Aside from being busy doing what I actually asked him to do."

"What if you're busy somewhere else?" Len can't quite explain why it bothers him. After all, whatever Piper finds out will benefit Len as well.

"Then, I guess, Hartley wins," Barry says, unconcerned. He looks at Len, and maybe Len's face betrays something, because Barry frowns and continues a bit more seriously. "There's really not much information there that Hartley doesn't know or suspect already, and when I get things back to normal with my… team, I'll have Cisco do a security upgrade and check for any lingering… issues." Barry makes a vague gesture with his hand to accompany the last word. "Are you worried about me?" Barry continues, voice teasing, but the smile he directs at Len seems more pleased than anything else.

"You have been a bit out of sorts lately."

Barry hums in agreement. "I am having coffee with Captain Cold, who knows what I'll do next." The grin he gives Len is infectious, and Len lets his own lips quirk upward in a smile that's probably a bit more real than he meant it to be.

After that they let the discussion move on to more inconsequential things, almost like they're just two normal people out for a coffee. Once they're not stuck in a maze of topics that Len is trying his best to avoid, he almost feels relaxed.

Soon enough Barry realises he's running late, and has to leave. When he's gone, Len realises he still isn't sure why Barry had asked him there in the first place.

* * *

Barry stops at a back alley somewhere between the cafe and work. He leans against a wall to keep himself steady and lowers his face into shaking hands.

That was okay, wasn't it? He was fine, not…

A ragged sob escapes him, and he presses his hands harder against his face. Like that will stop the tears from falling. 

Oh gods, Len. _I miss you._

"Hey, you okay?" someone calls toward him. He frees a hand to make some sort of gesture at them without looking.

"Fine," he manages to get out. "Thanks." He pushes himself away from the wall and takes a few unsteady steps, before finding his balance and making his way out of the alley.

Once no one is looking, he starts running.

* * *

"Hey, Baer," Joe's voice stops him almost as soon as he sets foot inside the CCPD building. He'd promised Joe they'd talk later, hadn't he?

He turns around to face Joe. He thinks about trying for a smile, but gives it up as bad idea before he meets Joe's eyes. "Joe," he says, questioningly.

As long as Joe doesn't invite himself into Barry's lab, he'll be fine, he tells himself.

Joe's mouth is half open when he catches sight of Barry's face, and he lets out a breath, mouth clicking shut. Joe frowns briefly, before his features smooth out. "I'm hosting family dinner on Sunday," Joe says smoothly. "Iris and Eddie already promised to be there." There's a small twitch at Eddie's name. "Maybe you could come too."

It's too much, he can't deal with this now. No more running away, Barry, he reminds himself and takes a steadying breath.

"Okay," he breathes out, sounding faint. "I'll be there," he adds, voice steadier.

He escapes up the stairs into his lab – forcing his legs to stay at normal speed every step he takes – before Joe even has the opportunity to tell him what time he should be there.

Besides, family dinner on Sunday is always at six.

* * *

Mick gets a text from Flash four days after Mick told him to fix things with Len.

_I asked him out for coffee._

Mick doesn't answer.

When Mick goes to see Len, Len tells him about the plans for the next job.

"Finally," Mick says to him.

Len smiles just a bit, and it's one of those real expressions that only come out rarely. "It'll be perfect Mick."

It sounds complicated, but that's probably what Len likes about it. He likes to fit all the pieces together, make the perfect plan.

"As long as I get to burn something." Mick shrugs.

* * *

"Caitlin's coming back," Barry tells Hartley, as he walks into the room Hartley's working in.

Barry has been expecting Caitlin's call ever since Firestorm had started showing up regularly.

"You're throwing me out then?" Hartley asks without looking up from where he's tinkering with one of his gloves. Apparently he's finished modifying his hearing aids already. He's been fiddling with his own equipment in between helping Barry make sure the accelerator will never be used again.

Barry should probably ask Ronnie and Cisco to take a look at the accelerator too, just to be on the safe side. Once he actually talks to them.

"Do you want to stay?" Barry counters, wondering what the answer will be.

Hartley stops what he's doing for a moment. "I doubt they'd want me here," he says, going back to his work.

He still hasn't looked at Barry.

"Probably not," Barry admits, and Hartley finally stops and look up at him. "That doesn't mean you can't stay. It's going to be really awkward explaining what you're doing here, especially to Cisco."

"Well, let me spare you the pain then." Hartley goes back to his gloves. "Your explanation would probably end up with me in the pipeline, anyway."

Barry doesn't think the sneer is all that convincing, but he lets Hartley have his pride.

* * *

Family dinner is awkward to say the least. Barry is so furiously reminding himself not to run away, no matter how much his muscles twitch with the need to move, that he misses most of the conversation for the first thirty minutes or so.

Then the first thing he notices is that somehow every second thing Eddie says or does seems to annoy Joe. He's pretty sure that's on Joe though, not Eddie. Joe bites down on his comments, but if it's obvious to Barry that he wants to say something, then there's no chance at all that Iris doesn't notice.

And really, thank god for Iris, who maneuvers around the rough spots in the conversation like she doesn't even notice they're there. She steers the discussion to her own work, as neutral as it gets in this house, Barry thinks, and ignores it whenever the three men frown and make noises about how dangerous something is.

Yes, continuing to investigate something that has led her to one of the Families sounds like a recipe for trouble. Barry thinks about it for a moment. "I might be able to help you with that," he says and ignores the angry looks he's getting from Joe and Eddie.

Iris' smile is still as bright as the sun.

They seem to assume that Barry means Flash will do something to help Iris, and he doesn't contradict them. "We can talk about it later," Iris dismisses the topic with a small smile at Barry, when Joe's and Eddie's opinions go a bit too far. Her smile turns a shade vindictive, when she turns to the two men. "Did I already tell you I need to find a new florist?" Iris asks.

Eddie shoots glances at Joe, while trying to look like he's even remotely interested in what Iris is saying, as the discussion turns to flower arrangements for the wedding. Joe scowls at the world at large.

At least there's a lot of good food.

"Did you mean it?" Iris asks after dinner, pulling Barry aside and leaving Joe and Eddie alone in the kitchen for cleanup. "You'll help me with the investigation?"

Barry shrugs. "I can't do much, but I do know someone who's not all that fond of the Santini family."

Iris narrows her eyes and thinks it over. "Snart?" she asks at last, sounding incredulous. 

Barry just shrugs again.

"Okay, if you're sure it's a good idea," Iris aquisces. And no, Barry's not sure about that at all, but he trusts that Len won't let any harm come to Iris.

"He might say no," Barry admits. "And it's not like I have his number on speed dial." He does, actually, but that's probably not something he should admit to. "But I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," Iris says and smiles that sunshine bright smile again, before going of to interrupt the awkward silence in the kitchen.

They all end up promising to do family dinner again next week.

* * *

Lisa shows up to harass him about his reclusiveness on Monday. It's not anything new, Len has never been the most sociable person when he doesn't have to be, and Lisa has always worried about him.

"I was at Saints last night." Len points out to her, but business apparently doesn't count. He definitely doesn't tell her about coffee with Barry, or the text he'd gotten from Barry yesterday night, asking Len if he wants to see Barry again. Len hasn't answered.

"You know Lenny, you need to find some pretty little thing to take your mind off things for a night or two," Lisa tells him innocently.

He glares at her, and she laughs. "Pretty little things aren't quite lining up behind my door Lise," he points out.

"I told you you should get out more. Or if you're going for easy, I'm sure Piper wouldn't mind." She smirks suggestively, but Len knows she's not serious. She knows he wouldn't screw up the still tentative setup with the Rogues for an easy fuck, even if Piper for some reason happened to be amenable.

Somehow he convinces her to drop the subject and they settle down to watch the movie she'd brought with her. Afterwards he'll tell her about his plans for a new job, the grand outing for his new Rogues, now that Mardon is finally onboard. A job will calm everyone down for a while, and it'll set things straight between him and the Flash. Remind everyone of exactly where they belong.

* * *

Barry's just arrived at a murder scene when his phone vibrates with an incoming message. He ducks under the yellow tape and pulls out the phone with one hand.

_Snart is less annoying._

He has to smile at the text. One of the weirdest things he's experienced since getting back might just be text messages from Mick Rory.

_He hasn't answered my text_ , Barry quickly sends off in answer.

He returns his phone into his pocket and tries to fit a more murder scene appropriate look on his face.

He can smell the body before he sees it, the stench of burnt flesh is something he knows all too well – just another part of the joy of life in a dystopian future with Mick Rory. The fire seems to have been mostly contained to the victim, but fire tends to be an imprecise tool, and there are scorch marks on the floor around the body as well.

Barry gives a short hello to Eddie, who's waiting close to the body, and then crouches down to take a closer look. The smell is worse close up.

His phone vibrates again, and he pulls it out with one hand while continuing his inspection of the body. He stops to look at the phone.

_busy_ , the message says, and nothing more.

_He's planning something?_ Barry types and sends the text off.

Barry looks down at the body again. He wonders briefly if Mick would have any insights into what happened here.

"Do you think it's a metahuman?" Eddie asks, and for a moment Barry feels a horrible, jarring sensation of wrongness.

Barry is thinking about Mick and fire like it's something normal, while Eddie is standing there looking at him. He takes a breath and tries to shake the feeling off.

"I don't know yet. I'll have to do some tests."

He starts walking around the house, trying to find more clues as to what happened. Eddie follows him.

Barry gets an answer from Mick. _When isn't he?_ Barry can't help smiling at that.

"Someone special?" Eddie asks trying to sound casual, nodding at the phone. Barry has to wonder what exactly his face has been doing to make Eddie ask that.

"Just a friend," Barry answers, trying to keep his face from revealing anything else. This is exactly what he was afraid of, lines getting blurred. He can't forget who Barry Allen is.

And who he isn't.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks, sounding surprisingly disappointed. "Because you kind of looked like it might be something more." Eddie puts a hand on Barry's arm. "I guess I just really want you to find someone who makes you happy." The smile he gives Barry is painfully sincere.

"Thanks Eddie," he says.

_Dinner? My place?_ He sends Mick anyway, and doesn't think about what Eddie would say if he knew who he's been texting with.

* * *

Cooking dinner for Mick is one of the most normal things Barry can think of, but at the same time it's also extremely weird. He's made food for Mick more times than he can count, but dinner just for the sake of company is different from what he's used to.

Mick shows up right after the food is done, after Barry has answered a pointed text asking for his address. Somehow it had managed to slip Barry's mind that since he'd run Mick to his place last time, Mick wouldn't actually know where it was.

He tells Mick about the murder scene from earlier in the day as they eat. Technically he really shouldn't be telling anyone about it, but then he shouldn't really be talking to wanted criminals either. Besides, Mick does have a few good suggestions. After all, if there's one thing Mick knows, it's fire.

The topics of murder and arson carry them through dinner quite easily. Barry flashes through the clean up, and sits back down at the table.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" Barry asks, trying to think of things people actually do together. "Do you watch movies?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

It makes Barry laugh, this whole thing with Mick is just so… they're doing everything in the wrong order.

"Maybe. But there wasn't really much opportunity for that kind of thing. Not that we were exactly fighting to survive all the time. Once we left Central City, sometimes there were months of just… calm." It's strange that when he's talking to Mick about the future, it doesn't seem quite so horrible as it usually does.

"And what did we do?" Mick sounds almost curious.

"Well we still had to find food and try to make up some sort of plan for what to do next and…" Barry shrugs. "I don't know, I guess we talked, or fucked, or trained." It only takes a heartbeat for Barry to realise what he just said, and judging by the widening of Mick's eyes he didn't miss it either. "Uh… I mean… fuck."

Mick grins, which is more than a bit unsettling. "If you want to."

Barry kicks him in the shin, which for some reason only makes Mick grin harder.

"Look I... " Barry starts, but he has no idea what to say. He isn't sure how that would fit in with what they have now, because the sex had never been as important as Mick, and he has no idea how to put that into words.

"You have a thing for Snart," Mick says. And there's also that. Why exactly Mick sounds so sure about it though, Barry doesn't know. He hasn't mentioned Len much, he thinks, except for the coffee thing. "I get it," Mick adds.

Barry isn't sure what to make of Mick's tone – the closest Barry can come to describe it is resigned, but he isn't sure if that's quite right – but by the sound of it he doesn't think Mick actually does get it. Because Len was… _Len_. But that doesn't mean that Mick wasn't...

"No. I mean, yeah, sure. Losing Len was…" Barry closes his eyes and sucks in an unsteady breath. "And seeing him here alive and… and out of reach is..." He snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, I have a thing for him, of course I do." He takes another couple of shuddering breaths. He catches Mick's eyes. "But you… you're a fucking miracle. Because you don't remember any of the shit we went through, all the time we spent together. And here you are anyway, and still so… you." Barry has to look away. He drags a hand across his face. "Before I left… you never asked me not to go," he says to the floor. "If you had, I don't know what I would have done."

That's the biggest secret of them all, Barry thinks, that part of him misses that horrible future so much it aches.

"Okay kid," Mick says gruffly. "Let's go watch a movie."

* * *

Mick isn't really surprised when the kid lets slip that they sometimes fucked in that future of his. Why not, if they spent all that time together, it's just sex after all. No, what bothers Mick is what the kid says after that.

Now the kid is sleeping against Mick's side, having fallen asleep halfway through the movie Mick hasn't really been watching. Mick's arm is around him. The kid's head is resting against Mick's chest, an arm slung over Mick's stomach, hand fisted in Mick's shirt like he's afraid that Mick will be gone if he doesn't hold onto him somehow.

The kid had just snuggled up to him the moment the movie started, and Mick hadn't bothered saying anything. It's not like he really minds the contact.

Mick doesn't usually think too much about his own reasons for doing things. Most of the time he has Len around for the planning and thinking, and as long as Mick gets to burn something or maybe hit something that works just fine for him. It's better for everyone.

Mick never gave much thought to this thing with Flash. The kid seems to know Mick and really, so far, Mick's just sort of gone with it. For fuck's sake, he'd just asked Mick about burning people to death while they were having dinner. It's not like the kid seems to have many illusions about who Mick is.

Mick hasn't really thought about what it means that he wasn't actually there for whatever got them to the point where Barry Allen feels like he can snuggle up to Mick and trusts him enough to fall asleep against him.

"Time to wake up kid."

Barry goes from sleep to being awake in a flash. He doesn't move, but Mick can feel him tense against his side. Ready to act, to move at a moments notice – less than that probably, with his speed.

"Calm down," Mick says, and that's enough to make Barry relax. That probably means something too, but Mick's not going to think about it. "It's time for me to go."

"Oh, right." Barry sits up, stretching his neck. "Sorry about falling asleep."

"It's fine, kid." Mick gets up from the couch, and Barry follows him with his eyes without getting up.

"Try asking him out to some art gallery," Mick says from the door. "He loves talking about that shit."

"Thanks Mick," Barry says over the back of the couch, a sleepy smile on his lips.

No, Mick hasn't given any of this much thought, and it's a strange thing to suddenly be so sure about how Barry feels about him.

* * *

Barry knows that if Caitlin is coming back he'll have to deal with Wells' will sooner rather than later. He needs to be able to actually pay her.

He's been putting off watching Eobard's video. It hasn't seemed that urgent, and he doesn't want to look at that face again. Listen to that voice. He's watched this thing once already, in that other timeline. The likelihood of Wells having anything new to say this time around is small.

But since he has to, Barry plugs in the USB stick anyway, and plays the video. It turns out that Barry was very, very wrong.

He doesn't really hear anything beyond "I confess".

He swallows around the lump in his throat, Wells' confession echoing in his mind on repeat.

He'd had no idea Eobard would do that. He hadn't done anything like it last time.

But then last time Barry's dad hadn't been in jail. Last time Wells' words on the screen had been filled with so much more hate.

Was poor little Barry with a dead mother and a father in jail really so much less detestable?

If Wells was still alive, Barry thinks he might hug him.

If Eobard was here, he thinks he might kill him all over again.

He has to call Joe. Joe knows the right people to talk to. He'll know if this is enough to get Barry's dad out of jail.


End file.
